


The Ornament Threeway

by kateyboosh, Terrantalen



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: A Liminal Christmas Space, Authoritative Top Howard, Blow Jobs, Blown Glass Fellatio, Crack, Fluff, Gratuitous use of Christmas related description, M/M, Mirror Sex, Rad Collab, Rimming, The Boys Fuck An Ornament, Threesome, Vince Loves Oral Sex (and Christmas), good boys, kind of, this is normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrantalen/pseuds/Terrantalen
Summary: Howard and Vince get together, told from the perspective of one of Naboo's ancient sentient artifacts that accidentally got put in with the decorations for the tree. A little fluff to make up for Crackmas, or mirrorsex in a highly reflective ornament.Warning: you may experience a haze of intense holiday pleasure.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8
Collections: Trash Triplets Crackmas 2020: It's All About Range





	The Ornament Threeway

**Author's Note:**

> This was our first, accidental Rad Collab, so, in following with our made-up holiday, it’s fitting that it’s posted on the 12th Day of Crackmas.

“Please stop jerking him off in my mirrored surface,” the ornament tries to say but can’t. Because it has no mouth. It can only watch along with the blue eyes staring into its surface as a large hand slides up and down the length of the cock in front of it. The ornament is not turned on, but the blue eyes are, if the way they’re fluttering is any indication.

"Please don't do that, don't get on your knees," the ornament sighs. Silently, to itself. Because no one with any type of magical ability, any ability to hear or even divine these things, is in a fifty mile radius. 

If it had known the things it was going to see and hear and experience, being accidentally stuffed in a box with strands of fairy lights and glass balls and little gingerbread men, it would have rolled its way off the auction table and into a corner before Naboo had spotted it and placed a bid a year ago. 

Sure, Naboo had to leave the flat this morning for the Four Millionth Annual Shaman's Christmas Knick Knacks Auction, right before the ornament was finally going to come down out of its box in the attic and send him a telepathic signal to rescue it. An entire year, locked in a cardboard prison, hearing the orgies that the other ornaments got up to when they were bored eleven months out of the year. 

The ornament could have cried with joy when the flaps of the box opened and it was surrounded by light. It could have cried with sorrow when it heard two voices bickering about where the glittery bits on the tree went versus the lights. 

It could have cried, if it had tear ducts. It would be crying, watching the big one bob his head, the little one snapping his hips forward in time.

 _Here we fucking go_ , the ornament thought, as the little one started demanding the big one look at him while he sucked his cock. Of course the big one complied. In spite of his superior mass, it seemed that the little one had him very firmly under his control. 

“Look at me, Howard. Yeah, like that,” the little one said, trailing his hands up his torso. He flattened his palm over his chest and fingered his own nipple. He bit his bottom lip, then his mouth slipped into an open-mouthed grin.

The big one (Howard, the ornament inferred) groaned as he slid the little one’s cock down his throat. The little one’s head tipped back, his whole body arching into a single long c-curve. “Fuck, yeah. Keep watching,” the little one gasped, “Such a creep, Howard, perving on me like—“

The little one was evidently overcome by the continued ministrations of his companion. He moaned and the hand that he’d had on his chest flew instead to Howard’s shoulder as the sound of very wet sucking filled the air. With a squelch like that of a sodden snow boot, Howard pulled off the little one’s prick. 

The ornament rolled its nonexistent eyes at the ludicrous display before it, not even remotely intrigued by what might happen next.

It watched as Howard kissed at the little one's bony hip. His tiny hand flopped ineffectually at Howard's shoulder. "Oh, fuck, stop," the little one panted. Filthy mouth on that one, the ornament thought. 

Howard did not stop, the ornament noted. He merely put his large hands on the little one's waist and turned him around, and bent his small body over the arm of the sofa. 

"Oh, Christ, Jesus Christ, fuck," the little one hissed. Howard bent forward and he seemed to be- 

Oh. 

The ornament had heard talk about how this was done, but it had never seen it performed. Maybe it was a bit intrigued now. For the purposes of... um. Education. Knowledge. Learning. Yep, one of those three would do. 

Howard pulled back, unburying his face from between the little one's parted cheeks. "No, Vince, not Jesus Christ.” He cleared his throat, somewhat theatrically, the ornament noted. 

“Howard TJ Moon, at your service." 

The little one - Vince - squealed when Howard TJ Moon leaned forward and nipped at his arse cheek before wet slurping noises filled the flat. 

The ornament wished for a brief moment that it had hands, and a pen, and a pad of paper, to jot down some educational notes. Perhaps even a diagram. If it was wishing for things, it might as well wish for art skills, too.

“Your fucking mouth,” Vince panted, “I love your fucking mouth.” 

The ornament could see why. 

Howard’s thumbs pulled apart the cheeks of Vince’s arse, so the ornament had an excellent view of his tongue as he rolled it around the circumference of Vince’s hole. Vince’s legs were shaking as he braced himself against the sofa. 

Howard’s hands wrapped around Vince’s hips, holding him tight. He leaned forward. His chest pressed flush against the backs of Vince’s thighs, his tongue pressed into Vince’s body. 

Vince wailed through a litany of swears that the ornament could hardly comprehend. His hips tilted forward, but Howard was holding him still, preventing him from thrusting against the sofa like he obviously wanted to. 

The ornament felt a strange, foreign sensation somewhere in its core... a feeling it couldn’t explain. All it knew was that the sight it had found so repulsive was now completely fascinating.

The ornament would have stretched forward on the branch if it could have, if it had muscles and a spine and all the relevant parts, to get a better view as Howard brought his hand around to Vince's cock. The ornament was expecting more than the little wordless gasp that Vince made, anyway. "Please," he breathed, hips twitching forward into Howard’s hand, "please, Howard, just please-" 

He quieted when Howard rose, one large, unmoving hand holding Vince by the cock, one reaching to leisurely unzip his trousers and let them pool around his ankles. 

"Howard, come on, please, I can't," Vince whimpered. "Please don't make me wait." 

The ornament felt... _tingly_ as it watched Howard bring his empty hand to Vince's mouth. The ornament felt quite warm, watching Vince's tongue slurping over Howard's fingers and the flat of his palm. 

As Howard wrapped his saliva slick palm around his cock and Vince squirmed, the ornament felt unquestionably aroused.

“You’ll wait if I want you to,” Howard said, slowly pumping his cock from head to base. 

The ornament had got the wrong end of the stick. Or maybe this particular stick just rotated in the air too quickly to tell which end was which. In any case, where it had seemed Vince was the one in control before, it seemed that Howard was the one in control now.

Howard tossed his head and, for just a moment, his eyes met the ornament. He smiled wolfishly. 

The ornament almost felt like Howard somehow knew it was aching for him, for both him and Vince. Knew and liked it, his gaze was so intense. _Please,_ the ornament thought, just as insensibly as Vince was saying it, _please let me play too_. 

Howard’s hand pushed at Vince’s hip, and tingles raced across the ornament’s silvery surface, as Howard turned Vince to face it, so that Vince’s huge, fretful blue eyes were staring directly at it. 

“What’s that you were saying before,” Howard asked, gazing down at Vince’s reflection in the ornament’s mirrored surface, “about looking at you?” 

Vince was looking at the ornament, too, looking up and behind him at Howard’s large hand as it continued to stroke his cock. The ornament felt itself do something like salivate as precum beaded on the tip of Vince’s prick. 

“How about,” Howard said, thumbing his own slit, “you watch yourself, while I fuck you?”

Vince groaned, low and long in the back of his throat. "Howard," he panted, words coming out in a rush, "whatever you want, I'll be good, I'll watch, just-" 

He went quiet suddenly, his eyes widening and going soft at the same time, sending little shocks into the ornament's silvery hook as Howard came forward and rubbed the head of his cock against Vince's arse. 

"Good," Howard purred, rubbing a thumb along Vince's spine, feeling the dips of his vertebrae. The ornament trembled on its branch; pine needles sifted through the heavy air and fell onto the tree skirt below. "Are you watching, Vince?" he asked. 

Vince's answer was lost in a moan as Howard pushed forward and slipped inside of him. The ornament watched Vince's eyelashes fluttering; Vince watched his mouth drop open in the ornament's reflection. Howard watched them both with a raised brow as he slid home and then stopped.

“ _Howard!_ ” Vince whined, “Why’d you stop? C’mon!” 

“I thought you were going to be a good boy,” Howard said, his voice so dark the ornament quivered, causing even more pine needles to plink down on the tree skirt. 

“’N I thought you were gonna fuck me!” 

Howard shook his head and, so slowly that the ornament thought a whole universe might have been born and died in the amount of time it took him to do it, he pulled almost wholly out of Vince. “Throwing a strop? Is that the kind of behavior that deserves a reward or a punishment?” He started rotating his hips, his cock teasing the edge of Vince’s hole, but going no deeper, not going anywhere near the place that the ornament could tell Vince wanted him. 

He bent down over Vince’s back. He started rolling Vince’s nipples between his fingers in time with the rotation of his hips. 

Vince’s face was flushed and sweating. His dark fringe was starting to stick to his forehead. He closed his eyes. “Howard, I—” 

“Look at yourself,” Howard reminded him. Vince obeyed. Howard pressed forward. “Keep watching,” he said. 

The ornament wasn’t sure if Howard was talking to Vince or itself, but it didn’t matter, they were both watching.

“That’s it,” Howard said, finally beginning to build to a rhythm. His hands slid down Vince’s ribcage until he was clasping his hips. 

Vince’s hand started reaching for his cock, but Howard’s hand got there first. “Just watch, Vince. Watch me fuck you.”

"Alright," Vince gulped, "I'll watch, Howard, I will, just - oh!" His eyes fell shut as Howard stroked him, base to tip. "I'll be good, so good for you... _ohhhhh_..." 

The ornament shuddered, rocking back on its branch, as Vince's breath caught and then released in his chest, buffeting it about like a tiny rowboat in a gale force wind. It frantically tried to stop its motion, needing to see the tableau before it, not wanting to miss a second. It caught fragments as it moved. 

"Vince." Howard's voice. "You're not watching." 

A strangled noise from Vince's throat. The sound of Howard's hand slipping over his slick cock. Vince's eyes snapping open. "I am. 'M watching." A gulp. "Promise."

“Promise? Then tell me what you see,” Howard commanded. 

Vince moaned as though in agony, “Howard, _please_ …” 

“Tell me.” 

“You,” Vince gasped. “Your hand on my cock, stroking me. Fuck, your hand is so big. I look _small_ in your hand.” 

“Look at yourself, Vince. Tell me what _you_ look like.” 

Vince stared at the surface of the ornament, his eyes searching wildly over his own face. He was panting, his warm breath rushed over the ornament, rocked it, swayed it, as his mouth tried to form words. Howard was starting to slow again. 

“I look like a slag,” Vince said in a rush, and Howard’s hand picked up speed, “All sweaty and… I can’t keep my mouth closed, and my eyeliner is all fucked, and I keep trying to see your cock sliding into me and… fuck, Howard, I don’t wanna look at me,” he whined desperately, “I wanna look at _you_.” 

The ornament was jostled again, frustrated by its inability to get a clear view. It saw Howard’s hand wrapped around Vince’s prick, sliding over the head. It saw Howard’s hips thrusting faster, deeper, harder. “You want to look at me? Go ahead, then. Look,” Howard grit out between his teeth. “Watch me make you come.” 

Vince wailed, the force of either his breath or the noise itself spun the ornament on its branch and it found itself tumbling toward the ground just as Vince came explosively, all over Howard’s long, thick fingers.

"Howard," Vince gasped. "Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard," he chanted, breathless. His words said one thing; his tone said another. Even the ornament could tell what he meant as it hit the tree skirt with a soft thump, and rolled halfway behind a well-wrapped, medium-sized box.

"Vince." 

Howard's voice was low and warm and deep, sparking and snapping and crackling over that one word like well-seasoned firewood ablaze in a hearth. From its place behind the box, the ornament could peel back the layers of meaning in Howard's tone like a kid shredding gift wrap.

At the sound of his name, Vince sighed and rocked back against Howard. "Come for me, Howard." His tone was light, sweet, almost innocent. The combination of being jostled and the fall and god, everything it had seen and heard and felt made the ornament dizzy. The intensity of the noise Howard made when he came was almost too much.

The two men stood and breathed together for a few moments, completely ignorant of the raging (and entirely symbolic) boner the ornament was sporting. It was so close, but with no arms, hands, or, even, an identifiable penis, it was unable to do anything to sate the feeling that was burning through its fragile, glass body. 

It was Vince who seemed to recover himself first. The ornament watched as he turned and kissed Howard languidly, stroking the sides of his face with his hands. He was smiling when he pulled away, “Fuck, you’re filthy, Howard.” 

Howard only mumbled an agreement. 

“I think we knocked that ornament over,” Vince said, bending down. His hand hunted under the tree, his fingers brushed against the ornament’s surface tantalizingly, but the ornament rolled back further. Vince stooped down on his hands and knees and then, against the green needles, the ornament saw his face again, the beautiful, fucked out expression he wore brightened by a grin as his hand closed around it. 

His touch was careful and light, as he turned the ornament over. “S’not broken,” Vince said.

“Good. That’s one of Naboo’s, isn’t it?” 

“Not anymore it’s not,” Vince said. Why he did it, the ornament would never know, but Vince licked it; just a quick flick of tongue against glass. “I’ve licked it, so it's mine now.” 

The ornament shuddered in his hand. A little more attention like that would be all it took to end its suffering, if only there was a way to communicate— 

“Howard, this thing just... it just _shook_ , like...”

"Give it here, Vince." 

For once, Vince didn't argue. His eyes sharpened a bit as he rolled the ornament from his small palm into Howard's, his hands falling on Howard's arm as he sheltered slightly behind him.

Fuck, his hand was huge. The ornament felt encompassed, every bit of itself surrounded by Howard's warm skin. It quivered when Howard prodded it with a slightly callused fingertip.

Howard's brow raised. He flipped the ornament over, finger following its seam. The tingling in the ornament's core raised, doubled in on itself, an insane chorus of sleigh bells. 

It was _right there_ , right on the edge, when Howard flipped it again. Two sets of eyes were looking down. Vince's brow was slightly furrowed, his tongue trapped between his teeth, fully concentrating on the ornament. It darted its non-existent peepers over to Howard, its round body wracked by convulsions, aching with the exquisite zaps of pleasure shooting around its globe and through its hook. 

Howard's expression was firm. Confident. Expectant. The remnants of his expression when he'd buried himself inside Vince and guided him, directed him. "I'll be good, so good, Howard," echoed off of the ornament's inner walls. 

It felt like slow motion, Howard's finger coming down to jostle at the ornament's hook. It felt fucking incredible, silver light seizing the ornament's reflective surface, exploding through the flat, ripping out of the ornament's globe.

Vince’s eyes went round as saucers, “I think it liked that, Howard.” 

“Liked it?” Howard asked dubiously, even as his finger kept stroking along the ornament’s hook, “It’s an inanimate object, Vince.” 

Vince bit his lip, “Is it? I dunno. I felt I was getting quite a good vibe off it, actually.” He reached forward from his place behind Howard, his touch almost hesitant as he traced the light dancing over the ornament’s surface. The combined sensation of Vince and Howard together was… oh god, in all the ornament’s long, dull life, it had never known how exquisite the touch of human hands could be.

So warm, so soft, so gentle, and so rough… there was no doubt that either of them could smash it to bits, but no! Instead they chose to pleasure it in the most wonderful way possible. 

“It likes it,” Vince said again, this time with more certainty. “Keep rubbing the hook. Watch.” Vince spread his fingers over the ornament’s surface, massaging it and rolling it in Howard’s palm. 

Sensation was building, towering higher, and higher, the feeling was foreign and strange, urged it to actions it could not take for itself; but it seemed the men were willing to act for it.

“Kiss it, Vince,” Howard said, his voice once more calm and controlled. 

Vince grinned. He spread his fingers into a ‘V’ on the ornament’s surface. He pursed his lips and kissed the ornament between his spread fingers. He was looking at Howard as he licked a long stripe between his fingers. The ornament began to glow red, felt itself getting warm. 

The light was fantastic, beautiful, everywhere. Howard and Vince were both fascinated, both completely entranced. The ornament knew that something was close, every second saw it closer still, but what sweet culmination were they racing toward? 

“Put the hook in your mouth,” Howard said. “Suck it.” 

_Yesss_ , the ornament thought triumphantly.

Vince grinned, the softness of the “alright, Howard” that dropped from his lips conflicting with the wicked expression on his face. 

The ornament watched as Vince’s pink tongue darted out to lick between his lips. It watched as Vince rose on tiptoe, his eyes falling shut as he pressed a slow kiss to Howard’s mouth. It watched as Vince drew back, holding eye contact with Howard as he scooped the ornament up out of Howard’s palm and sucked its silvery hook into his mouth.

“Mmm,” Vince purred, eyes locked on Howard’s. His cheeks hollowed slightly as he rolled the ornament’s hook, warming in his mouth, around on his tongue. If the ornament had a mouth, vocal cords, a tongue of its own, it would have been crying, screaming, whining with how close it was to release. Silver flakes of glitter stained Vince’s lips as he sucked the hook and slipped it in and out of his mouth with miniscule movements, all the way to the ornament’s cap. 

The ornament shuddered and glowed red when Howard’s hand came up to cover Vince’s, wrapped tightly around its globe, its vision completely obscured. The darkness made it easier for the ornament to focus on exactly what Vince’s mouth was doing. It made it easier for the ornament to concentrate on the creamy slide of Howard’s voice when he spoke.

“Do you like that, Vince?” A bob of Vince’s head that was more like a nod. The press of Howard’s body closer to Vince’s. “It looks like you do.”

A longer “mmmm” from Vince sent vibrations through the ornament’s entire globe. 

“You’ll tart yourself up for anything, won’t you?” Howard asked. “Me. This.” He drew a circle on the side of the ornament with his thumb, a gentle touch from strong hands that played counterpoint to Vince’s undulating tongue and sucking lips.

Vince moaned agreement again, and then the ornament felt Howard’s hand slide forward. 

It still couldn’t see—its vision was obscured by Howard’s palm—but it could feel Howard’s fingers as they probed into Vince’s mouth. Vince tipped his head back, his lips parting to accommodate Howard’s digits, as they rolled in his mouth. 

The ornament was expecting it, and yet unprepared all the same when Howard pinched its hook gently and started rubbing either side of it.

“Suck harder now, Vince. That’s it, like a good boy.”

The ornament could hear the tone of Howard’s voice, the words he spoke, but it couldn’t understand them, not fully. It only felt that he was being obeyed. 

Vince’s mouth went tight as he bobbed his head forward and back, never fully relinquishing his hold on Howard’s fingers or the ornament’s hook, but sliding his gorgeous, velvety mouth over both of them. 

The ornament found itself blinded, deafened by thundering pleasure, waves of frost and peppermint that shattered against cinnamon and firelight. Nothing, nothing, ever had been, or could be like this brilliant, beautiful feeling.

“Oh, fuck,” Vince said around Howard’s fingers and the the ornament’s hook, “Fuck, Howard, are you—”

“Yes,” Howard panted. “Keep…”

He didn’t finish the directive, he didn’t need to. Vince sucked, and sucked, harder, harder, his cheeks hollowing. Howard was moaning. Vince was moaning. The ornament was coming apart between their hands, its glass surface reshaping, changing, elongating; everything solid going liquid and long, all three of them wrapped in a haze of intense holiday pleasure.

The ornament perceived the shift in its shape, its very being splitting apart and coming back together in a dizzying rush. As it rematerialized, it found itself still wrapped in Howard’s hand, secure in Vince’s mouth, waves of joy dancing along its deep green surface. It was only after the soft, rhythmic jingling of sleigh bells startled all three of them from their reverie that the ornament perceived the shift in the time-space continuum that had occurred.

Vince let the cap of the ornament slip out of his mouth, his eyes glassy and doelike. “Howard,” he whispered, “how’d we get here? Where are we? Are we… are you… _ohhhh_ -”

The ornament ignored the order of Vince’s questions; Howard ignored them completely. He concentrated only on where he was joined to Vince, Vince’s leg slung over his waist, his cock buried deep inside Vince’s pale, lithe body. The jingling of the bells continued as Howard rocked his hips into Vince, his hand on the back of Vince’s thigh drawing him closer, the ornament snug and secure between them.

If the ornament had to guess, it appeared that they’d been transported to some type of liminal Christmas wonderland. Soft sheets printed with bursts of holly and clusters of poinsettias wrapped around a downy mattress, soft as newly fallen snow. Ropes of sleigh bells decorated the posts of the bed frame, interspersed with garlands of mistletoe. The walls of the space were round and opaque, a silvery, frosted glass globe reminiscent of the ornament’s original form. 

The moans falling from Vince’s throat as Howard’s large hand skated over the curve of his arse let the ornament know that Vince had forgotten his original questions. The warm circle of his mouth nudged against the ornament, opening to accept it again as Howard pushed it past his lips. Vince’s tongue explored the new bumps of its glass like a kitten lapping at cream; Howard cradled its curved tip, stroking his finger in a circle around it.

The ornament sighed. It shivered. It shuddered between Howard and Vince, hearing and feeling and _seeing_ the glory of the three of them joined together and moving as one. When Vince’s breath hitched, Howard stroked his cheek; when the ornament pulsed in Vince’s mouth, he sucked harder; when Howard’s deep, slow thrusts faltered, Vince pushed desperately against him, the ornament glowing in the firm grasp of Howard’s palm.

“Vince,” Howard breathed, his face flushed, “I’m-”

“Me too, Howard,” Vince gasped around the ornament, his silver-stained lips wet. The ornament practically hummed between them, hot and wet and glowing green with holiday cheer and impending orgasm. 

Just as Howard inhaled sharply and Vince whimpered, his cock pulsing between them, it began to snow, tiny flakes dotting the sheets, melting on contact with their warm skin.

Snow, and glitter, bursts of light, waves of eggnog flavored cream and warm wassail, every wonderful, filling, warm holiday sensation, every feeling of cheer, of wonder, of magic… it was all there, all sparkling between and through them, their bodies too small to contain it as it sprang ecstatically forward and left them in a rush.

When it was done, the two men panted with the ornament lying between them. Vince reached a shaky hand out and Howard caught it, kissed it. They slid closer to one another, left the now pickle-shaped ornament resting between them. They fell still.

The room grew dim.

Snow continued to fall. It landed in Howard and Vince’s hair, clung like bright stars in the night sky. They were beautiful, sleeping in the orange flicker of the fireplace. 

The ornament was not given to periods of sleep, and yet, something like a deep meditation fell over it, a calm like that of a cold, still winter night just after a heavy snowfall, something deep and silent, calm and peaceful.

It had never known satisfaction. It had never known love.

It knew them now.

Howard woke first. He usually did. Even liminal Christmas spaces couldn’t change some things. As soon as he did, he saw the tray laid out with sticky buns and mugs of hot chocolate, the snowman staring at him, posed, improbably, right next to a roaring fire, overhung with stockings full of tiny presents.

Fairy lights were winking at him from between the boughs of snow covered trees, which somehow seemed happy to coexist, again, with the roaring fire. 

“All right, Howard?” Vince said sleepily.

Howard looked down at him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips quirked in a half-smile. Vince could make anything look good, even messy red and green patterned sheets.

Howard could recognize magical trouble when he saw it, yessir, and they were in it; but, as far as magical trouble went, well, it didn’t seem so bad; he and Vince, a big soft bed, an ornament that was some kind of sexual amplifier, and a tray of pastries and hot chocolate waiting for whenever they decided they wanted them.

Naboo would sort it out eventually. Until he did…

Howard glanced up. He didn’t know if it had been there the whole time, or if it had only come into being because he wanted it, but the mirror on the ceiling reflected the entire bed. He watched Vince’s fingers slowly close around the pickle, watched his tongue as it swept over his lower lip.

Howard smiled. He laid down on his back, got comfortable. “Alright, then. Let’s see what you’ve got, Little Man.”

Vince slung his thigh over Howard’s hip. He rose up and shook his head. His hair fell like snow made of midnight across his narrow shoulders. He opened his mouth and slid the delicate pickle past his lips.

Howard watched him in front of him, and watched him in the mirror. God knew if anything ever demanded a 360 view, it was Vince Noir sucking off an ornament.

Howard thought it was shaping up to be a very merry Christmas indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Crackmas to all, and a Happy Nude Year.


End file.
